Put Me Back Together
by levines
Summary: Jordan was a normal, soccer-playing regular from Salt Lake City, Utah...well, so she thought. After meeting International Superstar: Cristiano Ronaldo, she finds her entire world has been turned upside down- and not in a good way. Rated T for safety!
1. Mr Twinkle Toes

**I am aware that most of you aren't going to be happy with this update, seeing as how you were probably thinking it was another chapter to TEWOTB. My apologies, but that story is close to dead. **** I'm finding no inspiration for it whatsoever. **

**However, thanks to the Fifa World Cup and my obsession with a certain Portuguese soccer player, this storyline popped into my head. And I'm determined to give it a shot.**

**So, to the returned readers, bless you for reading this, and thanks for the support. **** It is much appreciated. **

**And to the newcomers- enjoy!**

"That looks painful."

I heard an unfamiliar, heavy accented voice say as they entered the training room. I was wrapping ice around my injured ankle. I shrugged, not bothering to look up, thinking it was just another member of the staff I had never met before.

"It looks worse than it feels." I replied, carefully tearing the pre-wrap before setting it down on the floor.

"Well, I'm impressed," He stated, "If that would have been me, I would have had my physio massaging me for hours while I cried like a baby. What'd you do to it, anyway?"

I chuckled before answering, "It's just a minor sprain, no big deal. Rolled it while I was trying to do a header over my teammate for a goal."

"So you play soccer?" He asked me, almost surprised.

I laughed, glancing around myself in my sweaty practice jersey, and both my shin guards on the floor. I pointed to them, before looking up at the man I had been talking to for the past few moments. "I guess those weren't a dead give-away?"

I stopped in my tracks when my eyes landed on his face. I did a double take. No, scratch that, more of a quadruple-take before almost falling off the bench.

"Are you…? You're…" I began, mumbling and stuttering all over the place like an idiot, staring at him with my eyes wide.

The man smirked at me, and raised an eyebrow. "I am…?"

There was absolutely _no way_ he was here. Right now. In my tiny little city of Salt Lake, in the most boring state in the United States: Utah.

I shook my head, thinking there must be a mistake. I wasn't going to accuse this man in front of me of being one of the best strikers in the world if it wasn't really him. I held back my accusation, and shook my head.

"Never mind," I said, tending back to my ankle although it was already wrapped. I glanced up to see him still standing there, an amused expression on his face. "Uhm…" I was beginning to feel flustered. "Is there something I can help you with?" I asked politely, trying not to come off as rude.

He flashed me a mesmerizing smile, "I'm actually looking for your coach, Dennis Burrows?"

I nodded, right; of course he needed to see my coach. Why else would some adorably sexy, hot guy be standing in my training room?

"He should be in the weight room," I replied, as I stood up from my position on the bench and tucked away the pre-wrap. "I can take you there if you'd like." I offered, not knowing why all of a sudden I wanted to be so helpful.

He shook his head, "No need," He began, and gestured to my ankle, "I don't want to screw that up anymore than it already is. I'm sure I can find my way around. Thank you though, …?" He looked into my eyes, searching for a name.

I swear I only stared back into his eyes for a couple of seconds. When he repeated his question, however, I realized it must have been several minutes. What the hell was wrong with me?

"Uhh, right. My name." I chuckled awkwardly, "Jordan."

"Jordan." The way he repeated my name made it sound like it was the most heavenly name on earth; it rolled off his tongue perfectly. He reached his hand out for a shake, and I obliged easily. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Jordan."

I was just about to ask for his name, when he disappeared down the hall to try to find my Coach.

"Dammnit!" I swore (more to myself than at anyone in particular). "Why do you have to be so incredibly awkward, Jordan? He's just a guy." I mumbled to myself, though I heard in the back of my mind my conscious telling me _Yes, but an extremely attractive, sexy guy; who obviously plays soccer since he talked about his physio and getting it massaged. Could he really be…?_

My thoughts were interrupted by some booming laughter coming down the hall. I glanced up to see my Coach with his hand on the man's shoulder, as they seemed to be laughing about something. I tried not to stare while I gathered my things from the floor.

"Jordan!" My coach said to me excitedly, always happy to me see me.

"Hey, Coach." I replied, smiling back.

"I don't believe you've met our hero, have you?" My Coach, Dennis, asked me.

I looked at him confused. Hero…? He seemed to answer my silent question for me.

"Jordan, this is Cristiano Ronaldo. He plays for Real Madrid and will be…."

Whatever more he said about the man standing in front of me went in one ear and out the other. I was in the presence of Cristiano Ronaldo, THE soccer superstar, THE scorer of the goal in overtime against England, which took Portugal to the semi-finals in the Fifa World Cup in a penalty shoot-out. I thought I was going to die.

"…and so we've been selected to go to Portugal to watch them train and use some of their facilities!" I finally tuned back in to hear my Coach finish off whatever 10-minute long introduction of Ronaldo. I was speechless.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I know I'm not all that impressive." He joked, making my Coach laugh.

_Gah, snap out of it, Jordan!_ I yelled to myself internally, and managed to pull off a forced laugh.

"No no, it's not that, it's just…" I began, not even knowing what to say.

"It's just that she's been worshiping you ever since you began playing for Manchester United." I heard one of my teammates, Megan; speak up from across the training room. I shot her a death glare while Cristiano laughed and said,

"That's surprising, considering that when I walked in here she had no idea who I was."

"That's not true!" I defended myself, "I just didn't want to be wrong. Imagine how awkward that would have been."

"Right." He drew out the word, before winking at me.

I swear you guys, my heart almost stopped.

"Anyways," my Coach continued on, ignoring Megan's comment altogether, "We should probably let you go. I'm sure you have a lot of training to do with the World Cup coming up soon."

Cristiano shrugged nonchalantly, "I actually thought I would just hang out in Utah for a few days. Get some relax time in before heading back home."

"Why on earth would you want to stay and relax _here_?" I blurted out, saying it before I could stop myself. _Damnit, Jordan! Think before you speak. _

Cristiano raised an eyebrow, "Why wouldn't I? There's peace here. No paparazzi, plenty of me time."

"'Me' time?" I asked, blinking at him with a scrutinized face, "What are you going to do, go get a mani and a pedi?"

Coach shot me a threatening look as if to say _Shut your mouth and be nice. _But Crisitiano seemed to be up for the challenge.

"And if I was, would you join me?" Oh, smooth talker. I shrugged,

"Nah I think I'll pass. Wouldn't want to ruin my cleats." I smirked at him while picking up said cleats form the floor. Coach Dennis looked like he wanted to kill me. What was I doing so wrong? He challenged me, it's not my fault I had sparring wit.

Cristiano didn't seem like he was going to think up anything anytime fast, so I saved him the trouble.

"Well it was nice meeting you, Mr. Ronaldo." I smiled sweetly at him, before turning to Dennis, "Later, Coach."

"Good practice today, Jord." He replied.

As I was walking out of the stadium/practice field, (I like to call it a stadium because it makes me feel more professional. In reality it's just a soccer field with a few bleachers surrounding it.) I briefly heard my coach apologizing for my behavior and chuckling. I had no idea what had gotten into me. I had just met possibly the most hottest, decorated, male international soccer player in the world, and I had just played him hot and cold. Why? I have absolutely no idea.

As I was chucking my cleats into the backseat of my Toyota Prius (thank you, parents, for allowing me to save the planet/O-zone) I heard running footsteps towards me and glanced behind me to see whom it was.

Holy shit it was Ronaldo. Why was he jogging up to me? What did he want? Was he pissed I had shut him down? Was he going to retract the offer to let me go to Portugal? Did he hate me?

When he reached me, however, my brain stopped with the unending questions, and I said the first thing that came to mind, "If you're here for my autograph, I'm afraid I'm suuuuper busy right now."

Why the fuck did I just say that? I felt like dying.

But for some magical reason instead of getting offended, Cristiano just shook his head, erupting in laughter, "You've got a fiery sense of wit. Gosto muito."

I stared at him for a moment. That definitely wasn't English. Oh god, the sexy Portuguese soccer God was speaking to me in Portuguese.

"Yeah…unfortunately I don't speak Portuguese." I began, "However, if Spanish over the past 17 years of my life have taught me anything, it's that "gusto" means like, so…" I thought for a moment, pondering, "You like it?" I guessed, having no idea if that was right.

Cristiano chuckled, nodding, "I'm impressed. Most girls wouldn't have had any clue what I said."

"Well I'm not 'most girls'." I shot back at him, raising my eyebrows.

"That is definitely true. Claro que si."

God his Portuguese was sexy. What did I do right in my lifetime to deserve this man?

There was silence between the two of us, and I bit my lip awkwardly, "So…" I began, "Why'd you stalk me to my car?

"Stalk?" He asked, seeming confused.

Ah, he didn't know what the word meant. Adorable. "Follow," I clarified, "Why'd you follow me to my car?"

A light bulb seemed to go off in his head, "Right. Well, I followed you to give you a different offer from the Pedicure."

I tilted my head to the side, "I'm listening."

"Venha jantar comigo esta noite." He replied.

I stared at him blankly, "I must not have made myself clear…I don't speak Portuguese, therefore I have absolutely no clue what you just said to me."

"Well that's too bad," He said, though his facial expression didn't look sad at all, "I guess that means I'll be all alone tonight."

I stopped mid thought-process and gaped at him. Was he asking me out?

"Are you asking me out?" I asked him out loud, shell-shocked.

"É una possibilidade. It's a possibility," He repeated with a smirk.

This whole English-Portuguese language-switching thing was tripping me out.

"If you want me to be impressed, _Ron_," I emphasized the nickname I had heard many of his teammates call him before on the Manchester team on TV, "I suggest you step up your game. Because so far it seems like you're just trying to get me confused with lots of Portuguese."

He shrugged, "Or I'm just messing with your head while secretly working on your heart." He gave me that heart-stopping wink again.

I stared at him blankly, and I tried to tell myself that he was an international superhero, a paparazzi attention-whore, and that he had probably said this many times before to several other women.

And yet, he was just so damn charming…

I must've been staring at him like that for quite some time because he eventually began laughing. "Relax, Jordan. I'm just trying to mess with you. Sinto muito, I'm sorry.  
I breathed out a sigh of relief, "But I'm still leaving that offer for dinner up for grabs."

I bit my lip, as if I was contemplating the offer. Oh, who was I kidding? Why the hell wouldn't I want to go to dinner with _Crisitano Ronaldo_?

"If you don't speak up soon, I'm afraid I'm going to have some other takers," He teased, referring to the wad of girls, aka my team, staring at us while giggling and laughing from the outside of the stadium.

"Done." I said automatically, already disgusted at the thought of one of my teammates going out to dinner with Cristiano.

"Huh?" He said, not understanding.

"I'll go out to dinner with you." I clarified, "Tonight."

Cristiano seemed pleased, "Perfeito. I'll pick you up at 7, then." He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, before walking off to his BMW M6 convertible. How he even knew where I lived was a mystery to me, but hell I'd take it anyway.

I couldn't help but watch the way his butt moved from beneath his jeans…

"JORDAN!" I heard practically 20-some girls scream my name and gallop towards me as Cristiano zoomed off.

"Oh my god, what did he say to you?" Someone breathed, looking star struck.

"I can't believe he kissed your cheek!" Megan said, positively beaming.

"He is SO sexy." I heard Amanda say, sighing blissfully.

I laughed, ignoring them all, "It was nothing, he was just checking up to see if my ankle was okay." I don't know why I lied, I felt like I had to. Most of these girls deserved to be on this team 100,000 times more than I did. Why did I get the super privilege of going out with Cristiano?

"Oh come off it," Another teammate, Rebecca said, "There's no way he _kissed your cheek_ when you told him your ankle was healing just fine!"

"Yeah!" Several other people began agreeing.

I turned helplessly to my best friend Megan, (yes, the one who had humiliated me in front of Cristiano earlier today in the training room) for help. She caught on and quickly made up a string of lies- she was good at that.

"I bet kissing people on the cheek is just a Portuguese thing," Megan said, shrugging, "He's a striker; Jordy's a striker. Obviously he's had to deal with ankle injuries before, he was probably just checking up to make sure she was alright."

The rest of my team looked skeptical, but eventually they gave up hounding me and believed Megan's story. I let out a sigh of relief when they all left, leaving me alone with Megan. She quickly turned towards me, grinning, "Okay now what did he _really _say?" She asked, practically bouncing up and down.

I rolled my eyes, but said in a low voice so no one could hear me, "He asked me out to dinner."

"He WHAT?" Megan shrieked, eyes wide and in shock. "When?"

"Megan!" I hissed, pulling her into my car so none of the girls would get more suspicious. "Jesus, try not to tell the entire team! There's a reason I'm only telling you. And he asked me out for tonight."

"Ohmygod, Jordy, this is a like a dream come true for you! Cristiano Ronaldo is like…your all-time HERO."

"Thanks, Megs, I had no idea that's how I felt about him." I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes again. "It's just dinner, I bet he's just looking for some."

"I don't think he's that sorta guy…" Megan disagreed.

I scoffed, "What, because you know him so well? He went out with Kim Kardashian for Christ's sake, who could I even come close to her?"

Megan shrugged, "Maybe that's what he's looking for right now. Maybe he wants ordinary."

Ordinary? "Gee thanks, Meg." I replied, sighing.

"Look," She began, her tone forcing me to make eye contact with her, "Ordinary is a good thing. These soccer studs and high-profile players? They get bored of all the glamour and fake girls. So when he comes here, in the middle of boring-town, expecting nothing but yet another publicity pleaser while he talks to just another lucky male coach, you can imagine his surprise when he finds good ole you- a gorgeous but not dimwitted, sexy girl who also _happens_ to play soccer. You're like his dream girl."

I laughed, not wanting to get ahead of myself or get my hopes up, "Yeah me and a few million other girls in America."

"And yet he asked _you _to go out to dinner tonight." Megan pointed out. She did have a valid point there… "Chew on that while you get ready, and call me the SECOND the date is over. And I mean it. I want hardcore deets and updates."

I shook my head, "It's not a date, but yes, I will call you after."

"Good," Megan replied happily, looking satisfied. She began to climb out of my car and turned to me before she left, "Kill it tonight, Jord, I'm countin' on you."

I smiled and nodded, "Oh, Megan?" I asked, just as she was about to shut the door, "Please don't tell any of the rest of the girls, I don't want this to be a big deal when it's not."

She nodded her head and smiled at me, "My lips are sealed, BFF."

"Thanks." I replied, smiling after she shut the door.

I closed by eyes with both my hands on the steering wheel and drew in a deep breath; I now had about 3 hours to look stunning before my date with one Cristiano Ronaldo.

To say I was nervous would be a dramatic understatement.

**Hate it? Love it? Think I should quit? Thoughts & comments are appreciated. **


	2. The Terms

**No reviews. :-( But that's to be expected. It's alright! I know not many people are fans of Cristiano, or even soccer really. This story is really mostly just for myself, as I'd love to get Ronaldo alone with me… hehe. **

**Anyway! Just thought I'd share this story with you for kicks. :-) I hope you enjoy it as much as I have been! By the way, in the story I refer to soccer as "football" a lot- so don't get confused!**

The doorbell to my apartment rung swiftly at 7:02 pm. Damn, this boy was practically operating on military time. I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror, hoping that the black halter dress was good enough for a famous football (soccer) star. I had let down my dirty blonde/brown hair so it hung loosely around my shoulders, curling softly towards the ends. I believe that I looked decent.

I opened the door, and saw Cristiano smiling at me brilliantly in a pair of black slacks and loose Polo shirt, carrying a bouquet of roses. I couldn't help but feel a broad smile widen across my face as I took the flowers from him.

"You look stunning." He complimented, giving me a swift kiss on the cheek.

I felt my face turning red, and shrugged. "You don't look too shabby yourself." I teased, widening the door so he could come in.

"Well, you know, I do the best that I can." He joked, while glancing around my apartment. I studied his face, knowing what he must be thinking.

"I know it's kinda small, but I've got a few million dollar mansions all around the U.S., you know, this is just my humble residing place while I wait to get picked up for a national team."

Cristiano blinked at me for a second, before catching on to my joke and grinning, "It seems perfect to me; nice and cozy. Plus, mansions are overrated anyway."

I laughed, while filling the vase with water and setting the beautiful roses in it. "Right, 'cause who doesn't need some couple-thousand square footage of room with a pool in the back?"

Cristiano mocked offense, "Ms. Jordan, are you insinuating that my pool is worthless?"

I smirked, "Not worthless, just expensive. And is there really a need to have a huge 'R' right in the middle of it?"

"It's just for my name!" He defended, looking almost insulted.

I laughed, "Yes, because no one could possibly know that the HUGE mansion in Portugal belongs to a famous football star named Cristiano Ronaldo."

"Well it wasn't just for- Wait," Cristiano cut off suddenly, and raised an eyebrow at me, "How do you know my pool has an 'R' in it?"

Ah shit, now he'd know I'd been stalking him. _Way to start off the night smoothly, Jordan._ I rapidly changed the subject so I wouldn't have to respond.

"So now that the roses have been put away, how bout you say we head out to dinner?"

Cristiano studied me for a few moments, and said, "Don't think I'm not going to ask you about the R story later."

With that, he held out his arm, I laughed softly and linked mine through it as we headed towards the mystery restaurant.

The car ride was quiet; but a peaceful quiet, and when we got to the restaurant, I found myself being ordered for by Cristiano.

"You know," I began, after taking a sip of my water, "It's not polite to order for a girl. It just means your showing off."

Cristiano tilted his head at me, "I thought girls loved that."

"But I'm not most girls, remember?" I responded, flashing him a smile. "Especially since this girl doesn't like seafood, and you just ordered her salmon."

"Shit." I heard Cristiano mumble.

I laughed, enjoying watching him squirm. You'd think the smooth talker would be used to taking a girl out on a date- apparently not.

"Don't worry about it, I already changed my order to a cheeseburger."

I saw a flash of surprise cross Cristiano's face. "A cheeseburger?" He asked, questioning me.

I nodded, "Yes, Cristiano, a cheeseburger. They're yummy and come with fries and they make me happy." Cristiano shook his head, smiling. "What?" I asked, instantly becoming paranoid.

"Nothing," He said, still smiling, "you're just incredibly difficult to figure out."

I shrugged, "There's nothing really to figure out; what you see is what you get."

"I like what I'm seeing so far." Cristiano said, and I noticed the way his voice switched from casual to flirty. I rolled my eyes, unimpressed. Cristiano caught on quickly and leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. "You're not falling for any of this, are you?"

I stared into his sultry brown eyes, "What is there to fall for?" I asked, completely honest.

"I'm talking about the me being nice, going out to dinner with you, bringing you roses, etc. You're not buying it, are you?"

"There's nothing to "buy" Cristiano, you're either a nice guy or you're not. It's pretty simple."

"And so far you think that I'm…?"

I contemplated for a moment. "I think that you're sweet, but you're used to getting what you want."

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked, still looking completely relaxed.

"I guess not. But you can't have everything."

He sat up in his chair, and leaned forward so he was a foot from my face, and said barely above a whisper, "You want to make a bet out of that?"

My heart was pounding, but I wasn't going to back down.

"What's the bet?" I asked.

"I'm going to be here for the next three days. In those three days, you can't kiss or touch me."

I scoffed, barely being able to keep back my laughter, "What makes you think I want to kiss you? Or touch you, for that matter? If I remember correctly, _you're_ the one constantly touching or kissing _me_."

Cristiano smirked at me, "Then this shouldn't be a problem."

I considered, twirling a strand of hair between my fingers before saying, "And what's in it for me?"

"Easy." He said, grinning, "You get Portugal."

I furrowed my brows for a moment, "So you're saying, that if I can…" I coughed back a laugh, "Keep my lips and hands to myself, I get to go to Portugal with my team? I thought I was automatically going with them?"

It was Cristiano's turn to roll his eyes, "No, Jordan, please try to keep up. If you keep all your body parts to yourself, then you get box seats to every one of Portugal's games in the World Cup. And one other team of your liking, the United States, I'm guessing, since you're from here."

I gaped at him. All of that just for not kissing and/or touching him for three days? Piece of freaking cake. Bring it on!

"Fine; but what happens if _you_ touch or kiss me?"

Cristiano grinned, "Don't worry about me, Jord."

I studying him with narrowed eyes for a second before finally saying, "First, don't call me Jord. And second, I _am _worrying about you because something tells me you'll cheat."

Cristiano laughed, "I'll drop 'Jord' if you drop 'Ron'. And I wouldn't dare cheat! I'm a footballer, Jordan! Have a little more faith."

"I have absolutely zero faith, Ronaldo." I deadpanned, knowing he would find some sort of loophole in this bet. "So what do you want if _you_ win?"

Cristiano smirked, "That's simple, _nena._" He emphasized on calling me "baby" in Spanish. It took every ounce of restrain in my body to not roll my eyes. "You have to admit that you were wrong, and that I'm not a snobby footballer."

"That's it?" I asked, thinking it was rather lame. I was good at BSing apologies; this was going to be a walk in the park.

"And," He continued, as if I hadn't even spoken, "You have to tell me about the R story, and every single fact you know about me, since it's clear you've done your research." He winked at me, and I glared.

Fuck. He had caught me. I knew practically everything about him; I'd watched all of his interviews on YouTube, followed him on Twitter, became a fan of his on Facebook, watched a documentary on him for several hours (which was in Portuguese, by the way), and…well, you get the point. If I lost this bet, my entire dignity went out the window.

"So, if you don't touch or kiss me for the next three days that I'm here, you get Portugal and the U.S. during the World Cup. If _I _keep my hands and lips to myself for the next three days, then I get the R story, an apology, and every fact you know about me." He paused for a moment, seeming satisfied with himself. "Do we have an agreement?" He finally asked, smirking at me and holding out his hand.

I glanced from his hand, to his face, and then back at his hand. "Oh no, you're not winning_ that_ easily. I'm not shaking your hand."

Cristiano rolled his eyes, "God you're suspicious. We made a bet, Jordan, we have to shake on it."

I hesitated, before finally extending my hand to reach his in a firm shake. "Agreed." I said. The second our hands touched, I felt sparks surging through my fingers and tingling through my arm. Cristiano simply smiled, and raised my hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my hand.

It felt like my skin was on fire.

"Something wrong?" He asked, noticing my widened eyes while I watched him manipulate my knuckles with his lips.

"Absolutely nothing." I responded, ignoring the butterflies floating around in my stomach obnoxiously. After a few more seconds of torture, I annoyingly pointed out, "You know, I'm going to need that hand back if I ever want to hold those Portugal and U.S. box tickets."

Cristiano laughed, allowing me to slip my hand from his soft grip, "You're awfully cocky for someone who seems to be put off by just a simple handshake."

I felt my face getting red and glared at him, "I wasn't put off," I snapped, leaning back into my chair as to get his intoxicating scent out of my nose. Why the hell hadn't I noticed he smelled good before?

"Oh so you mean you were put _on_," He corrected, winking at me.

Oh god, I was going to die before this bet had even started.

I chose to ignore him, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I'm fine, you just worry about yourself."

Cristiano laughed, "I've got nothing to lose, nena."

And so began the three long days of absolute hell.

**Hehehe, I thought a bet would be an interesting little throw in there, since Jordan seems to think she's so much better than Cristiano. We'll see how this all plays out ;-) Reviews are loved! Though to be honest, I'm sure I'll continue to write even without them.**


	3. Day One: Tuesday

**Woohoo for my first review! :-) Thanks, Melbookgrl! I appreciate it! And look, I updated super quick and early just for you! **

**And for all of you secret, quiet readers out there, enjoy! ;-) **

I was in the locker room, getting ready for practice. It was 7:45 in the morning, and I was tying my cleats, ready to get onto the field so I could get my mind off of the stupid bet. Ever since Cristiano had proposed the ridiculous idea, that's all that I could think about. So much, in fact, that after the date I had completely forgotten all about my promise to call Megan and tell her what happened.

"Oh my god, Jordan just tell me what happened already!" Megan begged, clearly searching for some answers as to what happened over dinner.

I sighed, grabbing my soccer ball as we both began to walk towards the pitch. "He made me a bet."

"A bet?" Megan asked, looking confused, "A bet about wha-"

"What the _fuck _is _he _doing here?" I cut off Megan, and stopped dead in my tracks. There was Cristiano, in all his glory. Standing on _my_ soccer field, wearing shorts, one of his Real Madrid jerseys, and seeming entirely pleased with himself. He grinned and shot me a wink.

I ignored the sharp tug in my gut, and glared at him, before stalking over to him.

"Where are you going?" I heard Megan call after me; I ignored her, and kept walking to Cristiano, stopping a few feet in front of him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded, both hands on my hips, glaring him down.

Cristiano smirked, "What, not happy to see me?"

I didn't respond.

"Coach Dennis asked me to help you guys out, give you a few pointers and stuff." He continued, ignoring my death glare, "What, didn't you know?"

I shot a look to my Coach, before mumbling to myself, "If I would have known, I definitely would _not_ have made a bet with you."

"What was that?" Cristiano asked, though from the amused look on his face it was clear he had heard me.

"Nothing," I replied, gaining some confidence. I found that if I didn't look at his face, I couldn't get mesmerized by his inviting eyes, gorgeous smile, perfect teeth, and sexy hair… "Today's gonna be a good practice." I said to him, grinning, before running off to meet my coach, who had organized us all in a group, for the usual pre-practice pep talk.

I found that keeping my eyes off of Cristiano for the duration of practice was going to be a massive struggle. I had already goal-posted two perfectly wide open shots, made one miserable cross-over attempt and had been giving up the ball far too easily. Coach Dennis let me know he wasn't happy with my performance, either, by yelling at me for a good 5 minutes.

After attempting a horrible heel-cross, I felt my ankle give out and landed promptly on my ass, by the side of the field.

"Damnit!" I cursed, pounding the ground with frustration as I glared down at my ankle. As I was going to take off my cleat, I noticed someone crouching beside me. I glanced over and saw Cristiano. Wonderful.

"Don't bother," He stated, nodding his head at the ankle I was about to massage, "It's not the ankle that's giving you trouble. You put too much weight on your left foot when you were bringing your right heel around with the ball. Next time, try balancing your weight on the ball equally with your left foot. Then your ankle won't give out on you."

I know that he had been trying to be helpful, but his commentary on my playing was only adding fuel to the already ignited fire.

"Thanks," I said, attempting to slowly stand up without applying too much pressure on my ankle, "But I know perfectly well how to do a heel-cross. I do it all the time."

Cristiano stood up, eyeing me carefully, "Really? 'Cause from the looks of what I saw, it seems to me like you hardly practice football at all."

I knew he was just trying to set me off, hoping I would channel my angry energy into playing better, but I wasn't going to take any of it.

"Go be an ass to someone else." I said, grabbing the ball next to me, and hustling to meet with the rest of my team.

"Did you guys just have some sort of…conversation sex or something?" Megan whispered to me, while Coach was explaining a new drill he would be conducting with the help of Cristiano.

I scoffed, "Hardly."

"Then why is he standing over there, grinning like an idiot?"

I glanced back at Cristiano, who, was indeed, grinning from ear to ear. He winked at me, and I felt my heart pound within my chest. I turned back to Megan and simply said,

"He always looks like that."

About halfway through practice, which was a few hours in, the temperature outside spiked to a whopping 98 degrees, and I could feel my sweat sticking to me underneath my practice jersey.

"Gross, I hate when it gets this hot out." I muttered to one of my teammates, Katie, while I tried to fan myself off.

"Oh, I don't mind it at all…" Katie replied, her voice trailing. I glanced up at her, and saw she was staring at something in the distance. I followed her gaze and saw…

Holy god. Cristiano had taken his shirt off and was juggling a soccer ball lazily on the side of the field. I could see his abs glistening perfectly beneath the sunlight, and I could literally feel my mouth almost beginning to water. He had the most beautiful body. It started with his broad shoulders and perfectly sculptured collar bones, to a flawlessly straight line that ran smoothly down to his happy trail. His abs were toned, and I could see them working while he juggled the ball atop both of his thighs.

This was absolute torture.

"Like what you see?" Cristiano called over to me, while still juggling the ball effortlessly. I shook my head, playing it cool.

"Show-offs don't turn me on." I responded, smirking at him and taking a long gulp of my water in an attempt to cool myself down and clear my head.

"Are you sure about that?" I heard him ask me in a low voice, mere inches from my ear.

I froze. How the hell did he get over to me so quickly? I could practically feel his body heat radiating behind me as the smell of his cologne wafted up through my nose. He smelled heavenly, but he never came close enough to actually touch me.

"Uhm…yes?" I replied, though it came out sounding more like a question than an actual statement. _Damnit, Jordan. Be more confident!_ "Yes," I continued, "I'm sure. Now either go pick on someone else or teach us something useful that we can use for soccer."

"You're awfully bossy," Cristiano noted, smirking at me. "I can be bossy too, you know."

I ignored the coursing heat throughout my body, and focused solely on the soccer ball I had between my feet.

"Soccer. Teach me." I reminded him, trying to take him off his high.

"Oh I can teach you lots of things, Ms. Jordan," Cristiano winked at me, a beautiful smile placed on his lips. Damnit. How is it that I was saying all of the wrong things?

I kicked the soccer ball from where it was resting on the ground in front of me up into my hands, and turned around so I could face him.

"See this soccer ball?" I asked, trying to sound menacing, "I'm known for my painful kicks to the groin. Would you like to see an example?"

Cristiano raised his hands in defense, though there was still a twinkle in his eyes. "Okay, okay, sinto muito." He apologized, also kicking up the ball so he was holding it in his hands. "What do you want to learn?"

"Everything. Anything." I replied, being completely serious. Cristiano shot me a look as if to say that was impossible. I spoke up quickly, "More specifically: controlled shots."

Cristiano grinned, "My specialty. Siga-me." He began walking towards the goal, and I just stared after him, blankly. "That means 'follow me'." Cristiano called, not bothering to look back at me.

In all honesty? I knew exactly what 'siga-me' meant, I was just more than happy to watch his shirtless body walk in front of me. I jogged over to him, as he set the ball down 10 or so feet from the goal.

"The trick is," he began explaining to me about the precision of hitting the ball in the correct spot and in what direction it would sail to if I hit it correctly.

I swear I was trying to listen, but there was this one small bead of sweat, rolling down his sexy abs almost as if it were in slow motion…

"…So if you do that, you should be fine." Cristiano ended his explanation, and glanced over at me.

I embarrassingly snapped my eyes up to his face, which now had a smirk plastered on it. Damn, he totally knew I had been staring…

"I can put a shirt on if it's too distracting." He commented huskily, flexing slightly.

I did my best not to roll my eyes, and dribbled my ball to where he was standing, "Don't flatter yourself, Ronaldo. I was studying your feet, not your…" I was going to say 'sexy 6-pack', but caught myself in the knick of time. "…abs."

"Of course you were." Cristiano grinned.

We practiced shooting for 30 minutes or so even after the entire team left. I was grateful they left because I didn't want to have to deal with my teammates reactions as to why Cristiano and I were having such a hard time being around each other. Okay maybe he wasn't having a hard time, but I certainly was.

I said goodbye to Cristiano around 5:30 from the pitch, and went straight home. I took a cool, relaxing shower to rid myself of the gross sweat from the day, and tried my hardest _not_ to think about Cristiano's glorious shirtless debut. He really was killing me. I had been only slightly attracted to him before, but suddenly since the bet began, my senses seemed to have heightened, and I was now more attuned to his body; how it smelled, what it looked like, the curve of his shoulders, how his pelvic lines formed the perfect greeting to his…

I was interrupted by a knock on my door. I glanced at the time, and saw that it was only 6:30. Odd. I threw on a pink tank top with white Nike shorts that went about mid-thigh length. I left my hair wet and dripping, before answering the door.

"You clean up nice," I heard a familiar voice breathe, while staring at me from head to toe.

"Benny?" I asked, in complete awe that he was here. "What-how-…what are you doing here?"

Benny, aka Benny Feilhaber, played for the AGF Aarhus soccer club in Denmark. He was recently recruited to be in the roster for the U.S. national team at this year's FIFA world cup. So you can imagine my surprise as to why he was…here.

"I wanted to visit you, of course." He replied sweetly, entering into my apartment and giving me a soft kiss on the lips. "How've you been?"

"You mean since you left California or since you left me?" I asked, shutting the door behind me and staring at him.

"Oh c'mon, Jordan, don't be like that…" Benny began, taking a step closer to me. But I stood my ground.

"Don't be like what, Benny? One minute you're living with me, and we're getting ready to move to Utah together and buy a house, and then the next morning you've signed with Aarhus and are all gung-ho for Denmark!"

"I offered to take you with me." He pointed out.

I sighed, "That's not the point, Ben."

"Then what is?" He asked.

"I was going to say yes." I mumbled softly, not making eye contact with him.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"I found the ring, hidden in one of your soccer cleats," I glanced up at him before repeating myself, "I was going to say yes."

I saw Benny's eyes soften, and he took another slow step towards me, enveloping my waist with both his arms as he held me gently.

"Why didn't you ask me?" I asked, peering up at him.

Benny sighed, "Because we got into that fight, and you said you didn't want to come to Denmark with me."

"I didn't want to go with you because we had both decided that I was going to go play in Utah! It was the best chance for me to make my move towards getting recruited for WPS!"

"Yes, but me going to Denmark was the only way _my_ soccer career was going to get started. How do you think I ended up on the national team?"

"But we had already made the Utah decision together, Benny! You took AGF's offer without even so much as asking me about it."

Benny scoffed, "What, because I needed your permission to go?"

"Benny…" I sighed, completely defeated. I didn't want to argue with him over this anymore.

"Look, it's over."

"Clearly." I interrupted, trying to pull back from him.

"That's not what I meant," He continued, gripping my waist so I couldn't turn away. "I mean that's it's over, it's already happened. But now we have this chance, now, to be together."

I looked up into his ocean-blue eyes with difficulty, having mixed feelings. What would I accomplish by sleeping with him? Absolutely nothing. On the other hand, it was _Benny_…my Benny. The Benny I had been with for almost 3 years before he left me.

He knew my resistance was cracking, so he whispered softly, "For old time's sake, Mick?"

I was completely shattered at the use of my old nickname; "Mick" was short for McLaughlin- my last name.

He leaned forward and met my lips, kissing me gently and softly at first. It quickly escalated as he pushed me back against the wall, his hands hungrily running along the barely exposed skin beneath my tank top, and trying desperately to push it off of me. I released myself from his mouth to breathe, and helped him with my tank top, quickly disposing it on the ground next to me as he worked our way to the couch. I moaned quietly as his hands began roaming my body, attempting to unbutton my shorts while his lips sucked on my pulse point at my neck.

"You know, Jordan," Benny whispered softly between kisses up to my ear, "It's always going to be you." He stopped kissing me when he reached my mouth, and looked into my eyes, "Always." I couldn't help the slow smile that spread across my lips just before he kissed me again.

And I was breaking, breaking, breaking.

Benny was in the shower when I heard someone at the door. It was almost 9:30, who on earth could possibly be here at this time?

I grabbed Benny's shirt and shoved it on over my body, and pulled on my shorts since I figured going pant less would be rather slutty. I opened the door, and-

"Cristiano." I stated, staring at him blankly. It seemed to be more a dun-dun-dun sort of thing, than an actual happy, excited thing.

"Interesting choice of clothing," He smirked at me, nodding at Benny's shirt, which was probably two or three sizes too big for me.

"Yeah, well…" I began, not really knowing how to explain.

"Can I come in?" Cristiano asked, looking around my apartment behind me, "I brought us some cool sustenance." He held up his hands, and showed me two pints of Ben 'N Jerry's ice cream. I felt my gut twisting into shame. Why did I feel so bad? It's not like we were dating or anything.

"Cristiano that's really sweet but-"

"Hey, Mick?" I heard Benny calling out my name, "Do you think we could put on that one Amanda Bynes soccer movie you were always obsessed with when we were-" Benny stopped when he entered into view in just a towel wrapped around his waist, and saw Cristiano at the door.

I glance from the ice cream, to Cristiano, to Benny, and then back to Cristiano. He either looked like he wanted to punch Benny in the face, or cry. I would go with punching, since I was sure Cristiano Ronaldo hardly ever cried- much less over a girl.

Cristiano looked from my shirt, to Benny, to my tank top on the floor, then back to Benny in a towel, and made the connection.

"I shouldn't have come here." Cristiano finally said, a look of resignation on his face and in his voice.

"No, Cristiano-" I began, not even knowing where to begin or what to say.

"Just forget it, Jordan." He snapped, before turning around and leaving my apartment.

I shut the door behind him, feeling completely embarrassed and humiliated. Why did Benny have to show up here _tonight_? Of all freaking nights to visit me, he comes on the _one_ day that Cristiano wanted to eat ice cream with me. Of course.

"Am I going to get an explanation as to why Cristiano Ronaldo was bringing you ice cream late at night?" Benny asked me, clearly wondering if he needed to be jealous.

I played it cool, and said with a shrug, "I was just wondering the same thing."

But inside, I was breaking, breaking, breaking…

**Da-na! Another chapter completed. :-) I wrote this kind of in honor for Benny since the U.S. lost their match today against Ghana :-( Definitely cried over that one. If you enjoyed the drama, leave me a wonderful review!**


	4. Day Two: Wednesday

**Hooray for two chapters in one day! Woohoo! Once again, thanks to my avid reader, Melbookgrl, who's been reviewing nicely! :-) And enjoy the following installment! **

Benny dropped me off at soccer practice early the next morning, after cleverly avoiding my question as to when he would be leaving. As I got out of the car, Benny turned to me and said,

"Kiss?"

I glanced to my right, where, for some reason, Cristiano was quite blatantly staring at us. Why was he here so early? It was obvious that Benny was trying to make him jealous. How the hell did I get wrapped up in a crazy testosterone triangle with two hot soccer players?

"Bye," I kissed him quickly before he could make it last for a while, and headed towards the stadium, ignoring Cristiano's icy stare. I heard him following me as I went into the locker room to get dressed for practice. Luckily, I was early enough that no one was in there except for us.

"Benny Feilhaber?" He asked, almost in an accusing tone.

I sighed, "Look, Cristiano-"

"No, no," He cut me off, "I mean it makes sense. You're gorgeous, and he's going to be playing for the US national team, and you play soccer…it makes perfect sense."

"Crisitano, he's-" I tried to again butt in, but Cristiano kept on rambling.

"I should have figured that a girl like you wouldn't be single, it's not like you would just be waiting around forever for someone to sweep you off your feet, I should have expected-"

"Cristiano!" I finally said sharply, and he shut his mouth instantly. "Thank you. Now, if you would let me explain-"

"You don't have to explain anything," Man this boy just loved interrupting, "He's your boyfriend. I get it."

"No, he's not." I said, while changing into my practice jersey. I had a sports bra on, so I figured it wouldn't matter much. I saw Cristiano's eyes flash from my face to my stomach, and hips, and he momentarily got distracted.

After a few seconds he finally said, "Then what's he doing here? In your apartment? Taking showers and kissing you and dropping you off at practice?"

I slammed my cleats on the ground, getting irritated, "Why do you care, Cristiano? It shouldn't even matter to you."

"It shouldn't, but it does." Was all he replied with, now staring at my legs while I changed my shorts.

"Hey, eyes up here." I stated, and Cristiano quickly looked back up at my face, but smirked at me. "Perv." I mumbled, before sitting down on the bench and getting my shin guards ready to be put on. Cristiano sat down on the bench in front me, eyeing me closely. "What now?" I asked with a sigh, not even bothering to look up at him.

"I really can't figure you out," Cristiano stated, sounding put off.

"You've told me this before." I reminded him, while I examined my ankle. "Does that look bruised to you?" I asked, lifting up my leg slightly so he could look at my ankle better.

Cristiano began reaching out his hands to hold my leg steady so he could look at my foot better, almost there…when he was about an inch away from my foot he looked up at me with a smirk. "You didn't really think I would fall for that one, did you?"

"Damnit!" I cursed quietly, setting my leg back down. "I was hoping that if I asked you mid-conversation, you would forget about the bet and just grab my ankle. Then I could get my box tickets and be on my merry way."

"Be on your merry way with Denny?" Cristiano asked darkly, suddenly very displeased at the thought of Jordan going to the World Cup just to watch Benny play.

I rolled my eyes, "Shut up about it already. He's just visiting me for a few days before he goes to LA to see his folks. He'll be gone before you know it."

"How convenient that he shows up right in the middle of our bet."

I rolled by eyes, "You and Benny are both such immature five year-olds. A bet is a bet, and it's still on. I don't answer to Benny; we can still do whatever we want."

"It didn't seem that way to me last night."

I groaned, "Jesus, Cristiano, can't you just let it go? It's not like we're dating or anything, is it suddenly not allowed to have any guy friends?"

"He's hardly just a 'guy friend', Jordan." Cristiano pointed out obnoxiously. He was right, but since when did I need to hear about my guy troubles from him?

I scoffed, "And you would know, right?"

"You were wearing his t-shirt! Right after he came out of the shower with nothing but a towel on! It was obvious that you two had-" Cristiano began explaining, clearly exasperated.

"Cristiano!" I interrupted him sharply, almost yelling, "I'm warning you, do not even _think_ about going where you're trying to with this conversation. What I do in my own free time is absolutely none of your business. _None_. Do you understand me?"

Cristiano sighed, "Sinto muito." He apologized tiredly.

I let out a deep breath, and easily changed the subject. "No seriously though, does my ankle look bruised?" I hopped closer to him, holding my leg out so he could look at my ankle.

I noticed that Cristian's eyes raked down my entire body, starting from my eyes, sweeping across my exposed tanned legs, before finally settling on my ankle. I felt shivers run down my spine. How could he turn me on by just _looking _at me?

"I think we're gonna have to amputate it." Cristiano said after an extended period of serious studying of my ankle.

I rolled my eyes and withdrew my leg from him, "Oh ha ha, you're so funny, Cristiano."

"Really? You think so? Thanks, nena."

"That was sarcasm, Ronaldo."

"You know what they say about sarcasm?" He asked me, while I began putting on my cleats.

"No, Cristiano, I don't- what do they say about sarcasm?" I was entertaining him, but I didn't mind. Anything to escape talking about Benny.

"They say that it's really just an honest statement, but you're trying to hide it by acting cynical."

I stared at him for a brief moment, "That makes absolutely no sense."

Cristiano shrugged, "Hey I'm Portuguese, my English, you know? It's no good."

I laughed as Cristiano went into a thick Portugal accent, speaking English horribly. "And yet you know what the word 'cynical' means." I stuck my tongue out at him, before grabbing one of the soccer balls that was on the ground. "Ready to show me some new moves, football star?" I asked him, grinning.

Cristiano smirked, "Did you even have to ask?"

He picked up another ball and followed after me, exiting the locker room. As we were leaving I turned to him and said, "By the way, that little shirt stunt you pulled last practice? That was a bad idea."

"Why? Did that make you want to lose the bet?" Cristiano asked, grinning.

"Nope," I said, shaking my head, "It just means that payback's a bitch."

And with that we walked onto the pitch, and I began asking him questions about soccer a million miles a minute, to hopefully distract him from what I said about my payback. It worked.

About an hour before practice ended, the Utah god's answered my prayers, and it heated up to a brilliant 101 degrees on the field. This was the perfect opportunity for me to get my payback.

I jogged over to Cristiano, who was on the sidelines watching some of the team scrimmage. I was out for a water break.

"God, it is _so_ hot out." I exaggerated, as I began to drink some water.

"I actually don't think it's-" Cristiano stopped mid-sentence while I stripped off my shirt, standing next to him in only a sports bra.

I threw my shirt at him, "Could you hold this for a second? Thanks." I opened the top of my water bottle, before dousing my entire body with ice-cold water, shivering slightly but grinning, shaking out my wet hair right in front of him.

Cristiano's eyes never left my lower body, which was dripping from the water now. I smirked, plan payback was successful.

"Like what you see, Ronaldo?" I asked, repeating the same question he had asked me the day before.

"Actually I do," Cristiano smirked, but still kept glancing down at my revealed stomach (which was toned, by the way. I _do_ play soccer, after all.) He moved closer to me, and I could feel his warm breath against my neck before he whispered, "I happen to like confident show-offs, unlike you."

I felt my breath hitch in my throat. Damnit, _this_ was definitely not part of the plan. How the hell did he end up switching around my seducing idea? Now _I_ was the one trying to keep myself from jumping him.

I'm glad that Cristiano left after that, because I had no idea what to say. My shirt hung loosely around his neck like some sort of prize, and he began yelling encouraging comments out to some of my teammates. I stared after him longingly.

And I was falling, falling, falling…

After practice, the girls washed up and left, and somehow, once again, I found myself alone in that damn training room all by myself with Cristiano.

"Dang you're slow," Cristiano commented, watching as I was just putting my soccer stuff in my bag and was about to begin taping my ankle.

"It's this damn ankle," I whined as I sat down on the bench, and carefully began taping it for more support.

"It's really been bothering you, hasn't it?" Cristiano asked, as he sat down on the bench a few feet away from me, in front of the ankle I was working on.

I nodded slightly in response.

"How come you haven't said anything to your Coach?' He asked, studying my face.

"Because it doesn't matter." I said simply, cursing quietly when the tape got screwed up and all I had accomplished was making my ankle hurt more.

Cristiano studied me for a moment, before slowly saying, "Do you want my help?"

I glanced up at him wearily, "I'm not in the mood for games, Ronaldo. So if this is your way of somehow spinning the bet-"

"Nope, no spinning." Cristiano interrupted, "It just seems like you could use a little help, and I've wrapped many ankles in my lifetime."

He was about to take the tape from my hands, and begin working on my ankle when I suddenly half-shouted, "Wait!" Cristiano looked up at me, startled.

"What?" He asked,

"If you touch me, you'll lose."

Cristiano gave me a sad smile, "I've already lost, nena."

What was that supposed to mean? I watched him, completely mesmerized, as he gently took the tape from me, and began wrapping my ankle. He took my ankle gently in his left hand, while cradling my heel with the other. My skin was on fire, and my heart was beating a mile a minute. I watched him with widened eyes as he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of my foot, before covering it with the tape. His hands were rough, but they had the touch of an angel. It was extraordinarily sexy.

"Can I ask you something?" I interrupted the silence softly.

"Dime." He said in Spanish, which literally meant, "tell me". He continued to work on my ankle without so much as looking up at me.

"Are you trying to…seduce me?"

Cristiano chuckled, "That makes me sound so bad. No, I'm not trying to seduce you, I'm trying to win you."

"Win me?" I asked, confused, "What do you mean?"

Cristiano sighed, and stopped working on my ankle to look up at me, "You…well you're you, Jordan. Smart, beautiful, athletic, confident, and sincere. I knew, the moment I met you, that it was going to take more than just a few nice dinners to win you over. Despite what people may think of me, I've changed, and I had to show you how."

"By creating a bet?" I asked, confused.

Cristiano nodded, "While you were busy stressing out about winning those box tickets, I focused on showing you who I've become, or rather, who I want to be- for you."

"You were never planning on winning the bet, were you?" I asked him slowly, trying to process everything he was telling me.

Cristiano chuckled, and shook his head, "You still don't get it."

I frowned, "I'm trying to! I didn't know guys could be so intricate."

Cristiano stayed quiet for a moment, finishing up my ankle and gently setting it down on the ground. He then scooted closer to me, and took both my hands in his. I found myself getting lost in his eyes.

"It was never about the bet. I didn't care whether I won or lost. The real prize is sitting right here in front of me."

My body felt numb, and yet hot all at the same time. "Why didn't you just _tell_ me that?"

"Would you have believed me?" He countered, never breaking eye contact.

Damn, he knew me very well for only having met me two days ago.

"And what about on the field today?" I asked, referring to me pouring myself in water in an attempt to seduce him.

Cristiano laughed, "_That_ I was not expecting at all. But it was great- you were great. You have no idea how close I came to losing it right then and there."

"But you didn't." I commented, "You never lost control."

Cristiano shook his head, "I couldn't. I'm a gentleman, Jordan, or at least I'm trying to be."

I glanced down at my perfectly wrapped ankle (which was feeling better by the way), before looking back up at him.

"I'm sorry that I judged you without knowing you." I said softly, "And I'm sorry about Benny. I should have explained, or told you about him, but in all honesty I didn't think he was going to come back. He's been gone for almost two years now, and he just happened to show up yesterday."

Cristiano shrugged, "Ex's are a part of every relationship, I'm not surprised that we already have to deal with one. But I don't want to talk about Benny anymore." He paused, before leaning in closely until he was mere inches from my face.

"Put your guard down, nena." He kissed my left hand gently, "Let yourself fall." He then kissed my right, "Eu estarei lá para te pegar." He kissed my forehead, before looking straight into my eyes, and whispering "I'll be there to catch you."

He cradled my face in his hands, and pressed his lips softly to mine. I felt something stir within me, desperately wanting more. It was at this point that I listened to him. I let myself go, fall, and be rescued.

I hungrily pulled him towards me, my hand wrapping around the back of his neck and my body pressing up into his as he gently laid me down on the bench. There wasn't a lot of room, so Cristiano was forced to lay between my legs and put most of his weight on his right arm, which was just beside my head. I felt his tongue gently massaging my lower lip, and opened my mouth in a soft moan. I had never been kissed like this before. It was a completely different feeling than when I was kissing Benny. Kissing Benny was slow; sad, almost, and we always had plenty of time. With Cristiano I felt rushed, like I had to get as much of him as I possibly could before something tore us apart.

Cristiano pulled away for air, and placed gentle kisses from the corner of my mouth, down alongside my neck, before he began sucking the skin right above my collarbone gently. I "hmmm"ed appreciatively, while my hands found their way beneath the hem of his shirt, and my fingers began running up his rock hard abs. I moaned quietly; they felt better than I could have possibly imagined. I stopped briefly, and opened my eyes as a thought came into my head.

"Am I still going to get my box tickets for the World Cup?" I asked softly, not wanting to break the mood.

Cristiano stopped kissing me and erupted into laughter. He kissed the side of my head, and nodded, "Yes, you can still have your tickets. A bet's a bet. I did lose, after all."

I grinned, but shook my head, "From over here, I'd say you won."

I pulled him again down to my mouth; and I was falling, falling, falling…but this time there was someone there to catch me.

**Hopefully none of you saw this coming! ;-) Hehe. Oh gosh I absolutely adore Ronaldo in this. I know that some of you may be disappointed with how Cristiano ended up "losing" but I'd say that I made up for it with the little part in the end. ;-)**

**Anyways, reviews are absolutely loved! Thank you! :-)**


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